Kylian Mbapp Imagine Where Kylian Suspects You Are Pregnant And You Deny It But Somehow Hes Right Fluff

Kylian Mbappé imagine where Kylian suspects you are pregnant and you deny it but somehow he’s right fluff

Suspicions

Masterlist

A/N: Wrote this on the bus so it's probably shit but I hope you like it.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Kylian knows you better than anyone.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 1.4k

Warnings! Fluff, slight angst, unexpected pregnancy,

Kylian knows you.

Perhaps even better than you know yourself, he would say.

From how you prefer hot chocolate over coffee to how you always choose the window seat on airplanes, even though you're terrified of heights.

He knows you.

Lately, though, something's changed.

It all started with a hunch, a whispered in his mind, and he's been racking his brain trying to figure out what's wrong. Even going so far as to call his mom and ask her for advice. And he thinks he's got it.

Call it intuition or whatever, but Kylian knows you, and he thinks, No, he knows you're pregnant.

You're not as energetic as you usually are, seeming more fatigued than usual, with dark circles under your eyes, often taking naps during the day and struggling to stay awake in the evenings. You've been eating a lot more than usual, often craving weird food combinations, something you usually hate when he does. You've also been having trouble concentrating and remembering things, which is unusual for you.

Not to mention that your mood seems to be fluctuating, going from being extremely happy to feeling down and irritable within a short span of time. Like your emotions were on a rollercoaster ride.

All your symptoms point to pregnancy, and the likelihood catches him off guard. After all, you both have been careful, using protection. Still, he can feel it.

You're in the kitchen when he decides to approach you.

Preparing a simple dinner. Spagetti Carbonara, his favorite. You look beautiful—the way the apron cinches around your waist, accentuating your curves—curves he's sure weren't there a few weeks ago. And you have a certain glow about you.

As you glide across the kitchen to grab ingredients, Kylian watches you closely, noticing the slight scrunch of your nose as you stir the sauce. As if the smell is suddenly overwhelming. You move more slowly than usual, and every now and then, you take a break to give your lower back a little rub.

Yeah, he's sure now.

He takes a deep breath and approaches you.

His steps are slow and calculated as he tries to find the right words to say, heart pounding in his chest as he tries to predict your reaction.

"Mon amour," he whispers softly in your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Hey. Did you get bored with your game?" You ask, temporarily pausing your chopping as you lean back against him, his warm skin sending shivers down your spine.

"Yes…So I have something to ask you."He asks softly, nuzzling your neck and breathing in your scent. Curiosity piqued, you turn around to face him, looking into his eyes expectantly. His gaze is soft, intense. It makes your heart race.

"What is it?"

He takes a deep breath. "I've been thinking…" He pauses, swallows and releases a shaky breath. You frown slightly, sensing that this conversation is about to take a serious turn.

"Go on, you can tell me anything," you encourage him gently, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. He hesitates for a moment before finally speaking, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are you pregnant?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any hint of confirmation.

The question catches you off guard, and you stiffen for a moment, trying to process his words. "Um, no, I'm not pregnant," you respond, letting out a confused laugh. "Where did that come from?"

Kylian pauses, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I...I don't know," he stammers, shoulders slumping slightly as he mutters. "It's just that...I noticed you've been acting different lately. You're more tired than usual, and your appetite has changed. Not to mention..." He trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished as he searches for the right words. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel bad about your slight weight gain, knowing how much you've struggled with it in the past.

You roll your eyes, snorting at the simple notion he's hinting at. There's no way. "Kylian, I'm on the pill. There's no way."

He nods, still convinced he's not wrong. "Yeah, I know, but...remember that time you forgot? I just want to make sure."

You shake your head, dismissing him. "That was weeks ago, Kylian. I've had my period since then. I'm sure it's just stress or something." You reassure, turning back to resume stirring the sauce, hand gripping tight on the wooden spoon.

Usually, Kylian would drop the subject at this point, but he's sure about this. Deep in his gut, he knows. And he's never wrong about his instincts.

He takes a step closer, placing a hand on your shoulder, hating the way you tense up under his touch. "Baby, I love you. And I know you, and I know when somethings wrong, trust me." He can tell you're getting irritated by the way your eyebrows furrow and your jaw clenches. But he can't let it go. "Let's just take the test, yeah. Just to be sure."

You pause for a moment, feeling torn. But you trust him. Plus, his intuition has proven right in the past. Reluctantly, you nod, realizing that it wouldn't hurt to get checked out.

"Alright," you concede, giving him a small smile. "If it'll make you feel better."

Your hands shake as you sit on the toilet, nerves fluttering in your stomach. Kylian is standing next to you, gently rubbing your back for support, as you wait for the results.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," he murmurs, squeezing you gently. You steal a glance up at him, chocolate-brown eyes soft as he gazes down at you with concern.

"I'm scared," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. Kylian's grip tightens. "Hey, I got you. I'm not going anywhere." He reassures you, leaning down to press the gentlest kiss on your lips.

The minutes feel like hours as you wait for the result. And your hands are shaking as your knee bounces in nervousness. The timer beeps, and your world stops.

You hold your breath as you pick up the test and hand it to Kylian, the small lump in your throat now feeling like a boulder. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch him flip it over with trembling hands.

He stares at the test, jaw dropping at whatever he's reading, before a wide smile spreads across his face. Then he's running toward you.

He scoops you up in his arms, spinning you around as he exclaims, "Je le savais!" before gently setting you down and dropping the test into your hands. You stare at it in disbelief, jaw dropping as your eyes well up. (I knew it!")

Two pink lines—two lines that changes everything.

You sob when it finally hits and it catches Kylian off guard. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly as tears stream down your face. He doesn't say anything. Just holds you. Knowing that you don't need words right now. Just him.

He strokes your hair soothingly, whispering soothingly into your ear, his warm breath against your skin. And you cling to him. Cling to him like he's your lifeline- because right now he is.

The only thing grounding you to earth as you process this newfound information. You stand there for what feels like hours, just holding each other before you finally manage to whisper, "We're going to be parents."

Kylian gently wipes away a stray tear, voice filled with awe as he murmurs, "Yeah, you happy." not knowing how you felt based off of your reaction. His heart did backflips as he awaited your response. There's nothing he wanted more than a family with you. You're it for him. But he knows he'll stand beside you no matter what you decide.

So he schools his features, in case you choose a different path, and waits for you to speak, ready to support you in whatever decision you make.

"Yes!" You blumber, barely getting your words out as you choke on your own tears. "Y-Yes." Hiccups and sobs escape from your trembling lips.

His body sags with relief at your words before he's pulling you close once again and laying a hundred kisses all over your face."Thank you, thank you!" Tears fall from his eyes now. And he's bending down to get on his knees to lay kisses on your belly. "I love you so much. Thank you."

He stays like that for a long time, his tears soaking your shirt as he showers your belly with love.

And you know everything will be alright.

-Bianca🌻

Cookies!

Pairing : dad!Jude Bellingham x reader

Them : Angst, I think.

Word count : 2k

Jude had a bad day and it seemed like a cookie wasn’t enough to cheer him up.

I haven’t written in soooo long. Apologize for any mistakes. Might delete this one. I don’t know. Sorry! Should start writing more. 😔

Jude and you were highschool sweethearts. Back when eveyone thought you guys wouldn’t make it because kids in love? Yeah, who would have thought you guys could pull through.

But you did.

There were ups and downs especially at the beginning of his career. Those multiple rumors and gossips came flooding all at once and you went from a normal girl to someone who was known to have a famous boyfriend. They ven called you “the girl who hit the jackpot”.

Some even called you lucky.

A few months after your marriage, Jude and you were blessed with a little girl named Aaralyn. Jude was a perfect father figure to her though to be honest, her arrival wasn’t really align with the immense growth of his career but he managed to balance it all out.

But there were still ups and downs.

The small little hand was flipping through pages of pages from your baking cookbooks whilst her other hand kept on tapping on her chin. Her soft little hums filled through the air.

“Have you make up your mind, honey?” You asked whilst rummaging through the cupboards to take out every baking tools needed.

Jude had been feeling under the weather these days. He tried to hide it from you as he always did but you always catch on it. You knew him very well.

And so did Aaralyn.

Apparently, your little girl was fully aware of it too. Aaralyn woke up this morning and came up with an idea to bake cookies for Jude because it was her favourite and based on her logic, whatever foods that made her happy, should made others happy just as much.

“Mommy, we… bake choco cookies!”

You let out a cackle. “You flipped through the whole book just to decide with a basic one?”

“It’s Alyn’s favourite!” Her small little hands started patting on her chest with a proud expression written all over the face.

“Of course, baby. Can you let mommy see the ingredients, please?” You were about to pull the book closer to your side but your duaghter was quicker.

She snatched the book back with her lips jutting out. “Alyn can read!”

“Okay, read it out loud while mommy gather all of the ingredients, yeah?”

“This one says..powder!” Her little finger pointed to the first ingredient on the list.

“What kind of powder?”

“Co— cocoa powder, mommy! This one..” The little finger then slid to the second ingredient.

••

Your little girl’s eyes widen when the sound of a car came from the garage. There was no other car that could have parked in the garage except for your husband’s.

“Daddy is here! Mommy, daddy’s here! We need to be faster!” She made a hop sound as her dangling little feet touched the ground and scrambled to get her princess plate from the cupboard.

“Use Alyn’s plate!” She lifted her pink coloured plate up high for you to place one of the baked goods.

The sound of the door slammed put your little conversation with Aaralyn to an end. There were no words exchanged as both of you stared at Jude. He threw his bag on the couch, the things inside hit with some of your daughter’s toys.

“Alyn, I told you to clean up your toys, didn’t I?” The tense in Jude’s voice was enough to make his mood known to the rest of the family members.

“Uh-oh, mommy wait!” Your daughter tiptoed to place her plate back on the kitchen counter before scrambling to the living room.

You were looking from afar as she straighten her arm to grab on her little toy whilst Jude was ignoring her existence, eyes solely on his phone.

“Daddy, can help me? Please?” Aaralyn mumbled a little as she patted on her dad’s laps.

“You should clean up your own mess. We talked about this yet you still refuse to learn.” He stood up, picked up the bag which he threw earlier and headed straight to the bedroom, leaving your little girl alone.

You saw she brought her little hands close to her chest, lips pouting as she stood there, completely baffled with what just happened.

“Baby, it’s alright. Mommy will help you.” You picked up your daughter’s toy box and brought it closer to the couch, Aaralyn then made a little noise as she jumped on the couch to gather all of the toys left.

“Daddy might be feeling a little sad today. I’m sorry about what happened, sweetheart.” You cupped on her chubby cheeks to give them a little kiss.

“It’s awright! Daddy will be happy after my cookie!” She squealed.

Your brows lifted, smile widen as she mentioned the main point of the day. “You are right! I forgot about the cookies. Should we bring it to daddy?”

“It’s okay! Alyn will do it.”

You trailed behind as she ran back to the kitchen, boths arms high up in the air to get her plate back.

“Be careful!” As soon as you handed her plate back, she already made her way to the room where Jude went.

“Alyn will come back after I make daddy happy!” Her voice sounded afar as she ran to the hallway.

Aaralyn’s pace stopped in a sudden as she nearly hit the closed door. There came a new problem as she couldn’t knock on the door whilst holding the plate.

“Uh-oh..” The soft little mumble slipped out from her mouth.

“Daddy? It’s me!” The back of her hand hesitantly knocked on the door as she took a step back, waiting for a response.

Jude heaved a sigh, arm propped up to cover his eyes. He wished a second for himself and he got was continous knocking sound greeting his ears.

“Daddy…?”

“Daddy!” She crouched down to carefully put the plate on the floor before bringing both of her fists thumping against the door.

“It’s me, Alyn!”

“What do you want from me?!” The inside of the door banged agaist the wall of the bedroom as Jude opened the door. There was nothing but tense in his voice.

Jude saw his little girl struggling to stand up straight with the plate of cookies right as he brought his gaze on her.

Startled by the sudden loud noise, some of the cookies in the plate fell onto the floor. Most of the perfect sized cookie now turned into little bits and pieces.

“Alyn just— just wanna give daddy a cookie…” Your little girl immediately cut the vexed gaze from Jude, her head hung low and she bit on the inside of her cheeks.

“You are making me suffocated. I need a fucking break and I can’t even do that in my house?!”

“Sorry daddy…” Her words turned into a mumble, lips started trembling.

Jude heaved a sigh when he spotted the cookie crumbles now all scattered on the floor. “Great, another mess. Clean it, Alyn. Now!”

Hearing the voice of your husband gradually got louder and louder, you immediately flipped the main valve. You barely had any time to wipe your hands as you scurried to the bedroom where you saw your little girl crouching on the floor, her little chubby hands quivered as she picked up the mess she did.

“Jude! What was that for?!” Fuming, you pushed him by his chest, tears welled up in your eyes.

“I just need a rest, Y/N,” He rolled his eyes with no hint of guilty.

“You could have just said so instead of cursing to my daughter. She did nothing wrong!”

“She should have just left me alone. No one gives a fuck about a fucking cookie right now! I couldn’t play for 2 months and you didn’t even ask me if I’m doing fine!” Jude responded back, not giving any sign to back down nor to tune down his voice.

“I know you aren’t doing fine. Alyn knows it as well. In fact, she knows it better than me. She planned all this. She planned a movie night, we waited for you to come home only to find out you spent a night at Vini’s without telling us beforehand. Alyn wanted to cook your favourite food. We did and you weren’t able to come home again. She then decided to bake her favourite cookies, thinking it could cheer you up only for you to shout at her face. Is it her fault that you have to rest for two months? That you had to lash it all out on her? Do it to me! Scream in my face, Jude! Do it.” Jude didn’t flinched when your fist repeatedly hit on his chest.

“This isn’t about you, Y/N.” He breathed out.

“So, is it about your daughter? Is that why you lashed out on her?”

Instead of saying anything else, he heaved a sigh and made his way to the bathroom.

You went back to where your little girl was sitting. The tears stain were immediately gone as you quickly wiped of your cheeks before crouching in front of her.

“Come, baby,”

Your little girl pulled her hand back from you and went back to picking up the crimbles. “Daddy— daddy asked Alyn to clean up this mess first or daddy will be mad again…”

Your heart broke when she kept her head low. Aaralyn always loved to make eye contacts, she had always been the mood maker in the house.

“Mommy will clean up the mess. Can you go back to your room, please, baby?”

“Daddy won’t be mad..?” She lifted her eyes and you were greeted a pair of puffy eyes, her cheeks were more round as she jushed her lips forward. She looked exactly like Jude and it broke the dam of your tears.

“Daddy won’t be mad at you anymore. Go back to your room? Mommy will see you once I clean this all up, alright?”

**

Jude clearly forgot what happened after. He was literally losing the grasp on time as soon as he woke up from his nap. The blanket was pushed aside as he grabbed on his phone. The brightness made him squint his eyes. The picture of you and your little girl greeted his sight.

3:02

Even in the dark, without him having to turn his head aside, he could still feel the bareness. He wasn’t sure what it was yet. Not until he tapped on the other side of the bed.

It was empty. Untouched even.

“Honey?”

His heartbeat gradually turned even faster as every call was left unanswered. You were a light sleeper. Even a slight noise could have woken you up. Soon as he left the master bedroom, his feet bought him to your little girl’s room. The light was left on but there wasn’t any sight of his baby girl too.

“Aaralyn. Honey?”

Jude went uneasy. His skin turned sticky as he broke intol cold sweats. Part of him wished all of this was just a dream. Before he reached the main door, he caught a glimpse of a pink coloured plate on the dining table with some sort of yellow coloured paper by its side along with a box of crayon pencils.

“Daddy’s

— Aarlyn ❤️”

••

You could have brush it off if it was only between you and him but not to your little girl. Aaralyn was clearly upset. Even when you packed her stuffs, she remained seated at the dining table, staring at her remaining cookie.

As you rearranged her folded clothes into the luggage, she came back into her room, looking determined as if she had to get something done. You let her be as she ran back outside as she took out her crayon set with a piece of paper from her notebook.

Unknown to you, she actually wanted to leavr a little message to her very first love.

“There! For daddy!” She mumbled, the crayon in her hand was slipped back into the rest of the set as she left the paper right beside her plate. Her little hand then rearrange the cookie right in the middle. Not before she took a small bite at the corner of it.

“Daddy will like it…” She murmured with a small smile on her face.

“Come, baby. We gotta go.” You called out to your little girl, voice half whispering not to wake Jude up. After all those things that he did, you dtill couldn’t believe he had the audacity to just call it a night.

“Okay, mommy!” Aaralyn hopped off the chair and ran to you as you crouched down to put on her shoes. As she remain still with her little leg on your lap, she sticked her index finger in her mouth, eyes locked at the dining table area.

“What are you looking at, sweetheart?”

“Alyn forgot to keep my crayon…” She answered.

“That’s alright. Just leave it be.” You picked up your luggage bag, your free hand locked on your little girl’s wrist.

“Mommy, where are we going? Aaralyn asked.

“Daddy needed some time alone so it’s just gonna be you and me.”

A SIGN TO INVEST IN NERDY EMO MEN CS LOOK AT THIS ONE 😈🫵

Roses & Kisses

Plot: (requested) In which Reader gets an unexpected gift from her Ex-Boyfriend and Kylian gets jealous.

Genre: Smut, Dom! Kylian

A/N: You’ve been waiting for this

Taglist: @okayymochi @kevjrr @darlingmbappe @fictional-l0v3r @neymarloverxxx @jkkyks @xanjoy @mounthings @mywhimsyjournal @mitruscity @anaofc @ihazels @sangriaswined @karotland @venusesworld @brideofmbappe @luz45789 @suzysface @edgyficuselastica @giannislovesney @sweeterthanacandy @kyliansmiste @olimpiiaa @kylianspsg

Graduation day.

This day is one of the best moments in your life. It is one of those moments that you will never forget.

Something that you have been waiting for all your life. It is the day you were going to see your parents happy and proud of you. The day your life would change for good.

It is an eventful day.

Starting with an hour of boring speeches (broken up only by a few daring clowns that bring inflatable balls to bat around - which the crowd and students loved, but teachers hated).

Followed by 10 minutes of worry as you wait for your name to be called while shuffling up toward a stage.

Then a few quick seconds of relief when your name actually is called. A few hand shakes as they give you a piece of rolled up paper.

Then, intense happiness as you launch your cap skyward.

You search for your family real quick. They congratulate you. Behind the crowd you glance at your boyfriend’s car.

You know it is a risk for him to show up in a crowded place, so you appreciate the ‘under cover’ appearance.

You say goodbye to your friends and family and get into his car before someone notices.

It was different with him.

From the laughs, to the kisses, to the sweet silent exchanges — being with him nurtured every part of you.

Kylian insisted you two go to the student residence instead of his home. You wondered why that would be, but he said he’d explain later on.

When you reach your room you’re surprised. You’re still in disbelief that it’s all done, as you stare at the little rolled up piece of paper you received a few hours ago.

Kylian smiles when you close the door, removing his sunglasses and cap. They didn’t really do a good job at hiding his identity, but then again it was nearly summer and most of the students didn’t really dwell around campus.

“So...” He tucks his hands in his pockets as he steps closer to you. “My smart girl has graduated at last.”

You nod, smiling.

“Your smart girl is also hungry and is wondering if you’ll take her out for dinner.” You hug his neck and he grins before pecking your sweet lips.

You were willing to go for another kiss, but there’s a knock on the door. You furrow your brows and he gives you a questioning look.

“I thought your roommate was visiting her parents abroad?”

“She is..” You answer.

You head to the door and look through the peep hole.

“Oh, that’s nice!” You cheer, smiling at him.

“Qui est-ce? (Who is it?)”

You open the door, and the mailman greets you.

“Mademoiselle Y/N?”

“That’s me.”

You take the large bouquet, thank the man and then close the door. You smell the roses and your lips curve into a very flattering grin.

“I swear to God, Kylian. Sometimes you’re very cheesy, but I love the roses. Merci bébé.”

His eyebrows are tied in a knot. But he doesn’t refuse your grateful kiss.

Still confused, he turns around to see your figure disappear to get a vase for the bouquet.

“You could’ve just given them to me in the car..” You mention.

“Uh... Y/N?”

“Is this why you insisted on coming here?”

“Y/N...” He calls again.

You glance at him and when you see his confusing look, your smile disappears.

“The roses are not from me.”

“What?”

“I didn’t get you those roses, Y/N.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment, and then you look at the bouquet you are holding. You notice the note that came with it.

Oh.

You don’t really sweat when you’re nervous, but it shows on your face and from your body language. How you suddenly feel your mouth get dry, and the way you scratch over your brow or suck your lower lip inward.

So, when your boyfriend noticed he got easily intrigued to ask: “Who are the roses from?”

You lick your lips and look out the window. “They’re from Alain.”

“Who?”

“My Ex-Boyfriend.” You say, putting the bouquet on the table. Then you make your way towards the sink to get some water.

Kylian’s eyes sparked — practically sending threats, but you didn’t dare to look. “Your Ex-Boyfriend.”

“Yes.” You didn’t need to lie, and Kylian may have figured out who Alain was with the snap of a finger anyway.

He checks the bouquet and you freeze in place.

“Why is your Ex-boyfriend sending you roses and love notes?” His smooth tone didn’t change, but it had an undertone of unpleasantness.

“It’s not a love note.”

Kylian gives you a ‘are you kidding me?’ look, poking the inner side of his cheek with his tongue, before he grabs the note to read it aloud:

“Chère Y/N, Ça me manque de te parler. Je ne suis pas bien sans toi. Je regrette profondément ce que j'ai fait. Alain ” (Dear Y/N, I miss talking to you. I sincerely regret what I did. I’m no good without you. Alain)

“C’est quoi ce bordel?!” (WTF is that?) He glares.

“He probably thought of me cause of the graduation. We had always dreamed of graduating together.” You explain.

You clear your throat.

Well, if you already started telling the truth, you might as well tell the whole truth.

“He texted me a few months ago and suggested we’d meet up. I declined. He never texted afterwards. The end.”

Kylian’s eyes were near-black now. He grins at first.

Teeth are showing, and then he laughs but his voice rings hollow.

It was a sardonic laugh — positively terrifying and unsettling.

“Wow. That’s nice information you hid from your boyfriend. Good job.”

You understand why he is upset, but you also don’t want this to turn into something bigger than it was.

“I’m sorry. I thought it would be best to handle this on my own. You were travelling and I didn’t want to worry you.” You justify your actions but he doesn’t accept it.

His hands are on his waist, and he laughs that unsettling laugh again; the one that you hear when he’s reached the limit of anger.

“A fucker is sending you roses, and you want me to simply sit back and watch?”

Frustration overrides your guilt: “Well, I can’t really control what others do or say. I told him I wasn’t interested. What do you want me to do? Send the bouquet back and tell him to fuck off?”

“Now that’s a good idea.” He voices out.

“That’s a ridiculous idea, Kylian. I’d rather ghost him. He’ll get the point.”

“Obviously he didn’t seem to get the point, cause he sent you roses.” He hints.

“Could we please forget about the roses and move on?!” You object.

“Why are you so okay with this?!” He shouts.

“I'm not!” You scream in protest.

He looks to the side and chews on his lower lip. If anger could be a person right now, it would be Kylian.

“Jealousy is not going to get us anywhere.” You say in almost a whisper.

“Jealous?” He asks. “Jealous?!”

There it is again. The snickering.

“You think I’m jealous?” He raises his voice. He never looked that annoyed by you before.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” You shrug and cross your arms in front of your chest.

He laughs and shakes his head. He was intending to walk away but then he heard you talk again.

“Yeah, you’re jealous.” You hum, intending to walk away to end the discussion with a sleek smile on your lips. And he’s overly irritated.

He turns around and looks at you: “No, I’m not...”

“Yeah, you are.” You say.

He walks towards you. His footsteps are loud. Like someone who has not learnt to walk quietly and instead relies on the verges to muffle his steps.

“I am. Not. Jealous.” He says as he keeps on moving closer to you till your faces were a few inches apart. “Jealousy is for men who have nothing. I’m protective over what’s mine.”

“Is that so?” You raise a brow.

His eyes hold all the answers. His breathing is unsteady because his soul and spirit were thus.

“So you’re not threatened by his gesture?” You ask.

“No, I’m not threatened at all, because I know that by the end of the day it is my bed you’ll be sleeping on and it is my name you’ll be screaming over and over again.”

Your body shivers to your core. You take a good look at him; the darkness in his eyes — you can’t say if he’s calmer or on the verge of an outrageous reaction.

“I want to make a few things clear.”

Kylian’s breath tingled the thin skin of your lips with each word.

“He texts you, he dies. He sends you roses, he dies. He looks at you, he dies. Hide the truth from me..” His grasp tightens on your waist as his voice drops. “And I will fucking die.”

Something pierces through your heart and shifts your parts. “I—...”

“Promise me you’ll tell me if he texts or calls you.” The intensity of his words steals the remaining breath from your lungs. “Give me your word, Y/N.”

“I promise.” You vow. “ As long as you tell me if anyone flirts with you as well, otherwise we’ll have a very serious problem.”

His mouth falls open and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip in a hopeless attempt to control his irritation.

“Deal.” He simply says.

His acceptance of this agreement is abnormal but sufficient to wash away the guilt you’ve been suffocating on for the past few days.

It’s enough to fill your muscles with a certain need. A need so strong and demanding, it whispers beneath your thick skin.

Kylian leans forward and whispers in dark words against the shell of your ear, “How about I fuck him out of your memory. You’ll be so full of me you won’t even remember his name.”

Your chest heaves up and down. Your breast brush up against the lapels of his jacket.

You admit to yourself that you want him; his wit and intelligence, his jealousy and protective demeanor, his unbound love. But mostly his anger and possessiveness.

Your mind and pulse have gone haywire. You don’t say a word. You don’t have to; because your body language was telling enough.

His throat flexes.

A breath passes, and then— you collide.

Hands. Lips. Teeth.

His mouth smashes against yours, your fingers press on the flesh of his neck, and urgency ignites between you until your limbs are heavy and frail with lust.

The only thing there is between you is the frantic, unhinged need for you to be as close to him as possible.

Your back slams against the mirror closet. You whimper, more at the thick, hard press of Kylian’s length against your thigh than the impact. Pain is non existent. Your blood is liquid fire, burning away any sensations but lust, need and pleasure.

His hand grips the back of your neck and he kisses your jaw, his teeth grazing the skin before he breaks away and says, “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you.” You are breathless already and desperate.

Then his body molds against yours. He brackets you with his arms, and a groan rises in your throat when he draws your bottom lip between his teeth and pulls.

His hands slide down the length of your body, caressing your inner thighs, waking each nerve ending along their path before he reaches for your pants.

Your breath hitches.

“I’ll have you on your knees.” He promises as he tightens his grip around your waist, “You’re mine, Y/N. Start acting like it.”

And then he sinks his fingers into your hair, his thumb digging into your cheek, and he claims your lips.

He kisses you with unbounded hunger. He kisses you like he has never kissed anybody before. Before you, any physical closeness with the opposite sex was only to satisfy his need.

With you, you are the need. Mostly, it was about loving, passion and tenderness. Today it’s different — It’s fucking, owning, and claiming. A statement.

It’s about you and your bratty behavior. About how you give in to him when he kisses you.

He probes, you fall.

He pulls on your lips, you whimper.

He ravages your tongue, and you’re all feeble against him, your hand trembling on his chest, and your body becoming one with his.

His mouth devours yours for all the fucked up things you said.

The minute he wrenches his lips from yours, you make a sound, a cry, a disappointment, or something in between.

Your skin has turned hotter, and you’re looking at him as if you can’t understand him. But you want to.

He turns you around so your back is against his chest.

In your roughly 150 square feet room you are now facing your mirror closet. And you can’t help but feel turned on by the way he is grabbing and kissing your neck like he’s satisfying his need and silencing his hunger.

It was erotic; watching his reflection as his other hand slips inside your pants, your panties, homing in straight on your sweet spot. Your mouth falls open on a gasp as he buries his digits knuckle deep inside you.

“So fucking wet for me already?” He growls in your ear, his hips pushing strongly against your ass.

Your walls quiver each time his fingers slip in and out. His thumb rubs over your clit.

You hear muffled voices coming from the hallway and your stomach flips. You’re worried but Kylian doesn’t flinch.

“Kylian...” You warn.

“Let them hear.” He spits, his desire, his possessiveness seeping from his voice into your body. Your heartbeats beat wherever you felt him. His scent, his warmth, his touch surrounding you, imprisoning you, owning you in a way that made your blood so hot you feel like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

His hand moves against you, inside you, as he moves behind you. It coiled the heat tighter and tighter into your belly, your spine tingling, aching, and beating with electric flashes of pleasure as you bite your lip to keep your pants contained.

Before you change your mind or stop yourself, you slip a hand behind you, cupping him through the fabric of his pants. You squeeze him hard as he swears into your ear, his fingers speeding up inside you.

“Someone’s hard for me.” You tease and he breathes a short laugh and as a response he gives your clit one rub, then another one right before he squeezes it hard. Suppressing your moans like before, he pushes you over the edge and removes his fingers.

Your gaze is locked with his as he watches your reflection through the mirror, his eyes sharp on you, before he cups your breast with his hand and licks your neck up to your jawline.

Your breasts get heavier, nipples hardening as heat pools down in your stomach, your breaths hasty.

Your eyes wander over that hard, male chest you’d felt squeeze against you, the chest you’d seen bare just a day ago. The tracksuit covering the hard muscles as the open collar uncovered a strip of delicious male flesh that made you want to lick it, from the line of his pecs to the vein running at the side of his corded neck, right up to that chin, and that mouth.

God, you’d let yourself see him, your eyes floating lower and lower to below his waist.

And your breath hitches.

The front of his pants bulged out, unashamed and proud, tenting the fabric.

His hand finds your jaw, turning your face to the side so he can pull you into a devastating kiss. Your lips part, and in an instant he licks into your mouth, his tongue stroking yours, your core pulsing.

The kiss is slow and sensuous, your mouths meeting again and again as you reach your hand back to grab his neck.

He groans on your skin, and the kiss turns into something out of control in less than a heartbeat, turning wild and needy, tasting of that sweet madness that exists between you.

He looks you straight in the eyes. His fingers fiddle with the buttons of your high waist pants.

“Let’s see. How hard. You’ll come.” He punctuates each word with a flick of his thumb, popping button by button free. Need surges your body, flushes your skin with an overwhelming, addictive rush.

He pulls your pants down along with your panties.

His skin is so warm against yours, and he feels like a burning line of warmth against your body. His cock brushes your slit, and he teases you, guiding it against you but only letting it dip into you before he’s back to teasing.

You whine, hating how much you need him. “Fuck me,” You tell him. “Stop being an ass and fuck me.”

"I should make you say please.” He sneers against your ear, but when you open your mouth to answer he suddenly slams into you, causing you to choke on a gasp.

“But I like you desperate and demanding. You’re so needy. Do you want me to release you from your pain?”

He’s the only person in this world you can’t get enough of. The only one you always crave.

Love. Chemistry. Attraction. Desire. Everything between you keeps you burning; a single touch is all it takes to send you both up in flares. By the time he breaks the kiss, his breathing is ragged as he orders you to part your legs.

And without any warning m, he thrusts hard into you at an unhurried pace. The sound of his cock smeared with your juices and excitement echoes in the air.

“Moan for me.”

Thrust.

“Break for me.”

Thrust.

“Make me your one and only.”

Your thighs tremble and pleasure tingles your stomach. The pain gradually but undoubtedly turns into a thousand pleasurable sparkles.

You press your hands flat on the mirror, because you need the anchor. Kylian is dragging out your most animalistic side and stroking it, literally and metaphorically.

“Name,” He growls. Your eyes open slightly, finding his, clouded mind. “Say my name.”

Your heart stops. You swallow, aware of him beating inside you. His fingers flex on your throat, so big he encompasses it, the sense of danger and safety blending together in a exciting concoction.

“Kylian..” You whisper.

“Look me in the eye while you say it!”

“Kylian,” You sigh, encouraging him, moving your hips to his, observing him. It turns you on, seeing him like that, seeing yourself like that, both of you dressed but so, so naked.

He squeezes your clit, making your hips shake automatically.

“Louder,” He grinds out between clenched teeth.

“Kylian,” You moan louder, feeling all the edges on his cock, could feel those beating veins, all naked inside you. He begins to rub your clit harder, his hips picking up speed, your palm flat against the mirror as you steady yourself. His hand around your throat holding your head up so he can have better access to your neck. It wasn’t too tight but firm enough to make you feel completely caged, completely owned in that moment.

And you owned him right back, keeping him trapped inside you with each thrust. Slowly, the fire in your body concentrated on your burning core, your whole body shaking as you started getting light-headed from the overload of sensation.

He rolls his hips, nearly blacking you out with the sudden movement, touching your sweet spot.

“That’s my girl.” He praises.

He fucks you in every sense of the word.

The mirror on the closet begins to shake so much it rattles. The sound of the wood plowing a hold in the wall matched the rhythm of him plowing into you.

A lot of students could probably hear you, but right now? Fuck that.

Your eyes remain connected even on that shaking glass as he thrusts in and out of you, rolling his hips, alternating. Your walls squeeze him, weeping and clinging to him, the thrusts inside you spreading fire all over your body.

Sweat coats your skin, your shuddering voice turning into boisterous groans turning into little shouts you seem not to control anymore.

And then you feel his teeth on your neck. Hard.

You explode, screaming as your knees buckle. You drop your head low, your walls releasing like never before, your heartbeats through the roof, so loud you can feel them thundering all over in your body. You could feel your own wetness running down your thighs, your eyes look for his radiant brow ones as you watch your own cum dripping on the floor, committing everything to memory.

He suddenly pulls out, and you see him stroking his erection with his clenched hand, his face turning into agonizing pleasure as he explodes, his cum pooling on the floor.

You watch, fascinated, still reeling from your own pleasure, listening to that growl take off his chest as he jerks off for a few seconds, milking out each drop, breathing out.

“That was mean..” You say.

“Was it?” He asks while wiping himself clean with a tissue. “Judging by how hard you came, you seemed to like it.”

Your fingers button your pants and the tingle of arousal begins to spread.

Again.

It hasn’t even been five minutes.

This man is planning to kill you one day, and you wouldn’t object.

“Kylian,” You grit out. “I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

He doesn’t seem to be concerned. “ You won’t need to. We’re flying.”

“What?”

“I booked us a flight to Marrakech.” He says so casually but it stops you at your track.

“You did what?”

“Happy graduation, ma lune.” He smiles.

You throw your hands around his neck and kiss-hug him.

“I need to pack my bag!” You say out loud and you head to grab your stuff from around your room.

Kylian sits on your bed. Checking his phone while you pack your huge bag. And when you head to the bathroom your phone beeps.

Usually, he doesn’t look. But when he sees a certain name pop up on the screen he feels his anger boil up again.

He takes a quick look at the bathroom door, hears the rattling of you going through your stuff. And when the air is clear he takes your phone in his hand and reads the message:

Alain.96: Hey ☺️ did you get my roses?

Entering the password. He jumps into his DM.

‘He’s foolish’ This is how he sees himself in your eyes. His love was foolish.

Maybe you’ll think that he was overreacting but he loves you very much. He loves you deeply.

To him it was a simple one on one thing. And because he’s a man, he knows exactly how other men think. And sending roses was not a thing to let pass by so easily.

One last look at the door and then he does what every man would do to get rid of a problem; you take matters into your own hand.

Jealousy; a tricky feeling.

It encompasses his feelings ranging from suspicion to rage to fear to humiliation. And strikes him till his bones start to shiver.

He blocks his account and puts the phone right where it was.

Flashing a sweet smile at you.

“Are you done?” His tone calm and relaxed.

You nod, and he gets up.

“Let’s get you something to eat then.”

Hfjdnekekmsskksekkekeke. IT’S BEEN A WHILE! I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH.

Who are you? - Jude Bellingham x reader

Summary: Reader is a sports journalist at TNT Sports for a few months. In a post match interview, another interviewer criticises reader and Jude springs to defend her. Inspired by that clip of Lando Norris 🤍

A/n: requests are open while I have the motivation + check out my masterlist

-

The match had just ended. Real Madrid and Manchester City both with one goal each, Madrid winning on penalties.

The atmosphere in the Etihad louder than normal, the city fans quieter than the away fans like they normally are in Premier League games.

The Madridistas sounded like they were having a party in their end, music playing, crowds screaming and chanting as the players were celebrating alongside them.

You were down pitch side having been moved their from the media box during the penalty shootout.

There were about ten journalists, including yourself, all with official lanyards, notebooks, your questions you’d prepared for every player as you still didn’t know who you were to interview.

You were overall in a good mood, but the nerves were eating at you. It was your first sports journalism job since you got the apprenticeship with TNT sports during the Champions League. You weren’t supposed to be the one interviewing, you were just supposed to shadow someone from the company but they were ill and no one else was available to do it. So to say the pressure is on, is no exaggeration.

These nerves only worsened when you realised the other nine journalists were male, old and all stood a few metres away in a little group.

You felt like you were back in school with all their little whispers and glances at you.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought about how pathetic they were as grown men leaving out a young woman.

If you weren’t in an apprenticeship and you weren’t professional, you would’ve said something, but you told yourself to bite your tongue.

You decided to take the time you had by yourself to read over your questions and review your notes on the match seeing if there’s anything you need to change.

After a few minutes and floods of city fans exiting the stadium, a member of the stadium team comes over to you.

“You’ll be interviewing Jude Bellingham first, but that’s the only interview we can give you today I’m afraid.” The older man says to you sweetly.

“Okay, no worries. How long?” You smile.

“The interview will be in a few minutes after they get the media set up ready and keep it between 2-3 minutes please” he says before walking away and going over to the group of the other journalists, all looking over at you.

You smile and wave at them sarcastically, in response to their hostile glances. You said you’d be profession, not that you wouldn’t be petty.

You head over the the edge of the pitch, set up with a board of all the sponsors logos and a huge camera a metre or two in front of it, there are wires all over the floor leading to a generator behind the barricades at the edge of the pitch.

“Y/n y/l/n?” The engineers ask your name.

“That’s me” you affirm while holding up your lanyard with proof.

“Here’s your microphone” the lady says while handing a mic to you with TNT sports on it.

“Thank you” you reply with a smile and take the microphone in your hand, placing everything but your questions for Jude on the floor by the media set up.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to interview Jude, you weren’t blind and from previous interviews you’d watched, he gives good answers.

You read over your questions one last time before you see a talk figure heading your way.

“Rolling in one minute” an engineer says as you meet Jude’s eye.

He grabs the other microphone from the engineer and takes his place between the camera and the sponsor board.

He looks at you, a hint of curiosity in his eye.

“I’ve not seen you before. I’m Jude” he says and holds his hand out for you to shake. You smile in return before reaching your hand out and making contact with his.

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze and your hands stay enclosed for a few seconds before you realise you still haven’t said your name.

“Oh, I’m y/n y/L/n. I’m on an apprenticeship currently, my first interview. It’s nice to meet you” you explain as he lets go of your hand, slightly laughing at you.

“Yeah, you too” he smiles.

“Well played today” you say, hating awkward silences.

“Thank you, it was a good game” he seems very attentive and engaged in whatever you had to say, something you hadn’t seen with other players and interviewers. It was nice to feel heard in an industry where women are often hushed.

“Okay, whenever your ready” the interviewer says, and in an instant, your nervous demeanour switched to one solely of professionalism, something Jude noticed and was largely intrigued by.

“Hi, Jude. So, you’ve had a bit of time to reflect on the match now. Hod do you feel about the team’s overall performance?” You ask him.

He nods during your question, absorbing every word you say.

“Yeah, I think the team put a good shift in overall. Manchester City is a difficult team to play against, you know when you think you’re through on goal you’ve got more defenders running at you. So in a goal scoring sense, we probably good have done better and not miss so many chances but defensively I think we were quite strong.” He says, it’s interesting how his maturer personality comes out during interviews as opposed to his boyish persona beforehand.

“Other than their goal, of course.” He slightly smiles, like feeling much better about it in hindsight than he did during the moment.

“Sure” you politely laugh at his joke, “as a result of that goal, obviously, it ended up going to penalties, how confident were you going into that?”

He purses his lips as he thinks about his answer, his eyes wondering around the crowd of Madridistas behind you.

“I had no doubt that we had some incredible penalty takers. Experienced ones as well with good heads on them so in terms of our capabilities, I was confident. On the other hand, we were against City, a team with various goal scorers and arguably one of the best keepers in the world at the moment so of course we couldn’t underestimate them.” He nods at you.

“Okay, thank you, Jude. One more question before I have to go, going into the Semi-final, you’re playing against Bayern Munich, a side which you’re largely familiar playing against of course. You’re main rivals last season at Dortmund. Is there anything you picked up on in your performance tonight that you know Bayern will capitalise on if repeated?” You ask, one thing you always pride yourself on is how in depth your research is before an interview, the person you’re shadowing has taken a few of your questions during your apprenticeship.

Jude seems impressed as the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly in a smile.

“You ask the best questions, they’re making me have to think” he says with a laugh.

Before you can thank him, a rough and deep voice startles you from behind, “no she doesn’t”

You turn your head to see one of the other journalists, your heart starts to beat quicker and the nerves kick back in. You start to think you need to defend yourself but you can’t find the words, shocked at how rude he was.

“Sorry, who are you?” Jude looks past you and says the man, his face scrunched up in anger, he can’t even fathom how someone could be so rude and have no shame about it.

You turn to Jude to look at him, his posture and body language changing to a defensive one. You silently thank him as the man retreats, his fave dropping as he senses no humour in Jude’s tone.

Jude glares at him for a little bit longer before turning back to you with concern in his eyes.

“Are you alright? I meant what I said” he tells you and you smile before nodding.

“Reckon I could get an answer to that question?” You ask, poking fun at the altercation.

“Yeah sure” he laughs with you.

“I think if we aren’t more clinical in front of goal then Bayern can obviously punish us with that now they have Harry Kane up front” he replies and you nod, agreeing with him.

“Perfect, thank you so much.” You say smiling at him before the camera is cut.

“Okay, this way please” the engineer says to you, ushering you away from the media spot.

You follow her, smiling one last time at Jude before heading towards the exit.

“Wait” you hear Jude call from behind you, you stop in your tracks and slowly turn around.

“Jude, you need to do another interview” the engineer calls to him as he jogs over to you.

“I don’t want to have one with him anyway” he replies back, referencing the man that insulted you.

You laugh at him as he finally reaches you.

“Can i have your instagram please?” He asks, he seems shy now and you have to bite your lip so as to not smile.

“Instagram?” You tease him.

“My mum doesn’t let me give people my number, only family and friends can have it” he says, his hand rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“My username is just my name” you say before you turn to walk away.

“Okay! Look out for my follow” he shouts as he runs back to the media set up.

The both of you are left with a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your stomach.

pls rb if you think cuddling doesn't have to be s3xual

im tryna prove a point to my bf's mother help me out